Born to be Queen
by ShinyRedPenny
Summary: Series of short one-shots surrounding Sansa as queen to different kings.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: This will be a series of short one-shots centering on Sansa's life as queen to multiple kings.**

 **LANNISTER QUEEN**

As the dagger tore through the man's throat, Sansa barely flinched. Her only movement was to run her fingers over her swollen belly-as if to shield her growing child from the violence. Even though once the child was born, there would be no escaping it. She knew once the child was brought into the world, it would belong to _him_. Her sunken blue eyes found her husband's as he smiled wildly up at her from the steps of the iron throne. The blood lust was upon him, she could tell. She was all the more thankful for the child inside her knowing that it would keep Joffrey from her bed.

Some poor whore would face her husband tonight and Sansa did not pity her. Better some nameless woman than his pregnant queen. Three babies had been beaten out of her before Cersei had spoken to her son and stressed how important it was that they create an heir. So Joffrey had left her be for the most part and when he did drunkenly stumble his way to her chambers, Cersei's personal guard escorted him back to his own. This had been the most peaceful six months of her married life and Sansa hated herself for being grateful to the golden woman. But she was-unendingly so. So very grateful that this child was kept in her womb instead of being violently expelled like the others. This little wolf inside of her was her reason to keep living.

Not that she'd ever refer to the child as such to anyone else. She knew there were few friends to be had at court and if word reached her husband's ears that she was calling his child a wolf... No, she needed to be careful like she always was. It had gotten her this far.


	2. Chapter 2

**TARGARYEN QUEEN**

Sansa took a deep breath before pulling on the deep ruby and onyx cloak that Aegon had gifted her on their wedding day so many moons ago. It seemed unreal that all he had promised her when he had come to court her was coming true.

The Lannisters- _gone_

The Freys- _gone_

King's Landing- _overthrown_

Now she was to fulfill her end of the bargain and stand by his side, cloaked in the Targaryen colors as he took the iron throne. Bring the north back under rule of the south and watch her brother bend the knee to the silver king and to her. But she would once again be left in the south as her family rode back home. Once again left all alone to be queen to a man she hardly knew. Jon promised her this time it would be different. Promised her Aegon would be nothing like Joffrey.

Sansa had to admit that the Targaryen prince was very different from the boy she had thought she had loved when she was a child. Joffrey even at his best was a spoiled child-nothing like the man she had spent the past few moons with. Aegon was determined, confident, ambitious and strong, but he was also humble in a way that many kings could only dream to be. His rough, storm-tossed childhood had contributed to that. It was that humbleness that had endeared her to him in the first place. He had recognized his own weaknesses-knowledge of the people he was to rule and the tact it took to navigate the politics of Westeros- and had practically begged her to stand by his side and guide him.

He treated her as a partner right now. For being sold to man after man her whole life, it was a fleeting dream that it would last. But it was her fate. What was done, was done and there was no use fighting it.

She picked up the silver crown and placed it in her auburn hair. Glancing in the mirror one last time, she left to join her king.


	3. Chapter 3

**SALT QUEEN**

Her father was already dead. Her brother was now murdered. Her mother slaughtered like an animal. Sansa's fingers tightened enough to crumple the letter in her hand and she felt hot tears rushing down her wind-beaten cheeks. She glanced up and met eyes with her husband, who looked at her gravely.

"You know what this means..." Theon practically whispered. "Our king in the north is no more. I will not bend the knee to those murderers, Sansa." She nodded quickly, immediately dispelling the idea. She brushed the tears from her eyes, thankful that Theon had took her away from the great hall to deliver this fateful news. It would not do to have the men see her this way. She had already had enough of a time convincing them she wasn't some simpering lady when Theon had first brought her to the Iron Islands. Though she doubted they would think less of her now, after several years as their lady and two scrapping boys wreaking havoc on Pyke, but she still was glad to not have an audience.

"What will you do?" She said, Stark steel lacing her voice and clearing her eyes. Her grief was already losing itself in the fury that was rising in her.

Fiery rage crackled between them as Theon gripped her hands in his tightly.

"I will call a the warriors together. It is passed time that the Iron Islands have declared their power and independence. I will build an armada, ravage the West, the Crownlands, and the Reach and I will avenge your brother...my brother. When I return we will claim the salt throne. Those Lannister cunts will rue the day they forgot about the Greyjoys. Robb did not die in vain, Sansa. I will carry on his legacy, I swear it by the drowned god."

"What is dead may never die." she whispered fiercely, preparing herself mentally for the war that was to come.

"But rises again. Harder and stronger." He confirmed, kissing her white knuckles before rushing out to inform their men.


	4. Chapter 4

**QUEEN BEYOND THE WALL**

Sansa couldn't believe that Jon would do this to her. How on earth was she going to survive North of the wall? The danger of the white walkers had been long defeated, and now peace was being negotiated, but Sansa was furious to hear just how Jon was going to ensure against another rebellion. If Mance Rayder could call the lord commander good brother, they would all sleep easier at night. Everyone except for Sansa. And she was livid.

She had met her husband-to-be only the one time, when Jon had taken her to the heart of the wildling camp with a full escort. Although the man seemed kind enough to her, she would never forget how gruff and terrifying his people were and how they had stared after her. They had not been impressed at all by the slip of a girl from the south-it was clear in their judgemental gazes. And she was supposed to rule these people? It was impossible.

When she had stepped away to clear her mind while the men discussed her future, she had been shocked when a man had approached her. He had leered at her, making some comment about how lucky Mance was to be able to bed some 'kissed by fire _cunt'._ Flabbergasted, she had gaped at him before anger rose in her.

"I'm to be your queen! You dare speak to me like that?" She knew that if she rolled over and allowed any of them to say such things, she would never be able to lead them. "You will respect me!" She demanded hotly.

But he had laughed at her ire. "Respect will not be handed to you because you spread your legs for Mance, little one." He chuckled and sauntered past her, leaving her breathless and shamed.

What the hells was she going to do?


	5. Chapter 5

**RAINBOW QUEEN**

It was hopeless. There must be something wrong with her. Perhaps he did not find her beautiful. Or perhaps too young and inexperienced. Whatever kept her husband from her bed, the result was the same. Cold sheets and a flat stomach.

Every night these past three months since the wedding, she had expected Renly to consummate their marriage but he had found excuse after excuse to avoid her tent. She had been thankful at first, thinking he was giving them time to get to know each other before being so intimate, but he made no effort to see her at all- day or night. And as days became weeks, which became months, Sansa's hope of a happy marriage dwindled.

She had been so happy when Robb had arranged the marriage. After the horrible betrothal to that Lannister boy and having to be smuggled out of kings landing, she had originally thought to go back to Winterfell. It was a naive hope. She quickly learned that Robb had no choice but to use her as a bargaining tool to bring Renly to their side. If she had to be traded for an army though, she was pleased that it was to a man like Renly. He was young, handsome, charming, and he had made her his queen. Her wedding day had been exactly as she'd always hoped for. Her wedding night, less so. She wished she was strong enough to bring it up, try to ask him why, but she knew she never would.

She sighed heavily and draped a cloak around her shoulders. Renly would be back soon and although she could bet that he wouldn't be joining her, she wanted to be prepared for the off chance that he would. Or perhaps she could go to him... He had met with his brother just this morning and she knew it had not gone well. Perhaps she should visit him and try to soothe the sting of the rejection. Suddenly pleased with the idea, she stood and quickly dressed warmly and modestly. She pulled the flap from her tent and exposed the bustling camp. As she took herself through the maze of campfires and tents towards her husband's she felt even better about her choice.

It was only when a scream rang out that her blood ran cold and she all but ran to her husbands tent.


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Someone suggested it and I thought I'd try it. Always open to suggestions!**

 **Baratheon Queen**

Sansa felt bile rise in her throat and she reached for her wine to wash it away. She found herself relying more and more on the drink as time continued in her marriage. What a pair the two of them made, an old, widening drunk and a pale child, also on her way to becoming as dependent on the drink as her husband. Right now, it was the sight of her _husband_ groping every servant girl that passed him that was sending Sansa to the wine, but over the past two years, Robert had given her plenty of reasons.

Why her father thought this was a good match for her, Sansa would never know. Once the Lannister queen had passed in childbirth those years ago delivering sweet little Tommen, King Robert had been on the hunt for a new woman to call queen. He had made his way north, to his oldest and truest friend. Eddard Stark had welcomed him with open arms and asked what he could do to serve his king. They had all expected him to consult with Lord Stark about marriageable ladies of the north, but King Robert had already decided. He wanted a Stark bride. He had missed his chance with Lyanna but was determined to call a Stark woman his queen.

Her father had stared at his friend, wide-eyed and open-mouthed. There were no other Stark women but his two daughters. Arya, who was only a child and Sansa herself, barely flowered. They had all been shocked by the king's request, and although her father apparently tried to convince him otherwise, it had been the king's orders. Sansa remembered how furious her mother had been. How she had cried and held her the night before the wedding. How Catelyn had refused to even speak to her husband since he had reluctantly agreed. Even to this day, she didn't think her parent's marriage had ever truly healed.

The wedding night had been about what she had expected from the fat, old man. He had climbed on top of her, reeking of wine and blubbering incoherently before pushing her legs apart unceremoniously and taking her innocence. She had cried afterwards, as he had snored beside her. Ever since that night though, she had refused to let him make her cry. Not that he truly ever meant to. She continued as the meek, gentle queen her predecessor had never been and that had endeared her to him. He was kind when he wanted to be, and when he was deep in his cups and his temper was flaring she just avoided him. Whatever formula they had worked to an extent.

Still, as she watched from across the great hall her husbands hands sneaking up the servant girl's skirts she couldn't help feeling bitter. This man had taken her from her family, destroyed the happy home in Winterfell, and continued to ravage her body often in the hopes of another prince with Stark blood and the only thing she could do to dull the pain was drown in the arbor gold in front of her. She took another swig, wondering how Cersei Lannister had been able to handle it.


	7. Chapter 7

**Not Quite a Queen**

Sansa bit down a smile as the Dornish prince bowed over her hand, pressing a courteous kiss to her fingers. She had seen the scowls on both the queen and queen mother's faces as the prince had sought her out before them, but she knew it would be unseemly to appear to be gloating. So she kept her face neutral as she welcomed the prince to Kings Landing, courteously asking if he was able to sail in without issue.

Inwardly she was thrilled to see Margaery's face turn sour as if she had eaten a lemon, and it was always pleasant to see Cersei riled. But her husband would not approve of her glee. She almost rolled her eyes at the thought of his lecture.

 _Never let them know what you're thinking. Never show any weakness._

How many times had Tywin repeated that message since he had married her. When he had first schemed to take her claim to Winterfell for himself, she had hated him with her whole being. She had considered throwing herself from the highest tower rather than wed the man who had orchestrated the murder of her family. But like always, her will to survive outlasted all other romantic ideas of escaping it all and she met the old lion in the sept and accepted the cloak of red and gold with grace. At the very least, she knew Joffrey would never be allowed to touch her again. She had even accepted him that night, though she had bit her lip hard enough to draw blood and taken her mind away.

He had not touched her again after their wedding night for a few years. Instead he had demanded she sit in with him as he answered letters and ruled the kingdom. He continuously peppered her with questions, scoffing at her when she gave foolish answers and giving no outward sign when she had said the right thing. She had learned that he was constantly testing her, constantly teaching her something and she had thrown herself in learning from the best there was. It was a hard apprenticeship, but she had to admit that she had become a strong player on her own.

She still hated him for what he had done to her family, she always would. But she respected him. She knew he would not care for her in the way a husband should. But he respected her. It worked.

And now even this Dornish prince knew the truth. In a court with two rivaling, bickering queens, it was the Hand's wife who held the true power.


	8. Chapter 8

**The Kitten's Queen**

A wide smile played on Sansa's lips as she beamed at the gift before her. She reached out her fingers and allowed the small puppy to lick at them, nipping playfully. She couldn't help the laugh that escaped her and she turned to the giver, her sweet husband.

"Oh, Tommen he's adorable! I love him!" She pulled the squirming puppy into her arms and bent to press a kiss to her husband's cheek. It wouldn't be too long until he was of a height with her. He was growing so fast these days. She remembered the day in the sept when she had been required to kneel so that the little boy could tie the black and gold cloak around her shoulders. She had been so relieved that it had been little Tommen she had been sworn to and not his dangerous older brother.

When she had been brought to King's Landing all those years ago, she had come with stars in her eyes. Joffrey had seemed like the perfect prince-golden, gallant, and heir to the iron throne. She had been dreaming of the day she could become his queen. But slowly she began to notice certain things about her betrothed that worried her. He was less gallant than she originally thought. She had witnessed him being cruel to his siblings and she had tried to brush it off. She fought with Arya all the time, perhaps she just didn't understand the dynamic within the royal family. But then he had tried to hurt Arya while she was training with her squire friend. And then the day in the sept when he had insistently touched her even though she had asked him to stop. They had been all alone and she had been so very afraid. When she had finally forcefully pushed his hands away from her chest, he had struck her across the face. He had stormed out after, leaving her in tears.

She had not slept for weeks after, dreading being married to him. Then the unthinkable had occurred. The prince had been out on a hunting trip and had been gored by a stag he had been chasing. He died in the kingswood. The capital had been in mourning for a few weeks, the queen even longer, but in the end King Robert and Sansa's father had decreed that it would serve the realm best if the new heir, Tommen, stepped in and took Joffrey's place in their betrothal. Although the queen was furious and had not spoken to her kindly since that day, Sansa couldn't help but be relieved when she heard the news. Tommen was gentle and sweet-nothing like his brother.

Now they were 2 years into their marriage and Sansa couldn't be happier. Granted, it was a hollow marriage. The match would not be consummated until Tommen grew to manhood but as she ruffled his sandy blonde hair, she couldn't help but think that would be very soon. He was already so different from when they had been pledged to each other.

The boy had obviously been overshadowed by his demanding brother. Without Joffrey hanging over him, Tommen had flourished. He had spent more time with his father, learning how to hunt and spar. He had sat in with Lord Tywin on multiple occasions, listening to the old lion teach him about the way of the world. And he had a wonderful relationship with Sansa's own father. The only issue was the Lannister queen. She seemed hell bent on making Sansa as miserable as possible.

But as she tucked the puppy under one arm and looped the other through Tommen's, she knew Cersei would never succeed. When they took the throne together once Robert's time was passed, the golden woman wouldn't matter.


	9. Chapter 9

**A Different Baratheon Queen**

Sansa's eyes narrowed as she glanced across the table at the Red Woman. She couldn't believe what she was hearing. Couldn't believe that the rest of the table was silent as Melisandre revealed her plan to eradicate the faith of the seven. She could see the wide eyes of her husband's councillors as they listened in shock, but what was truly terrifying was Stannis' nod of approval with each sultry word that left the red woman's mouth.

"Y-your grace..." a true man of faith spoke up, albiet shakily. "I do not believe that this will endear you to the masses...We are talking about overthrowing the faith of millions...the faith of your own queen!" Now he gestured towards Sansa, who forced herself to meet her husbands eyes. She was irritated that the man use her to make his point, but if it softened Stannis to this train of thought, she would have to get used to it.

When they had married a year ago, it was part of the alliance contract that Sansa was to follow whatever faith she chose. Stannis had never pressured her one way or the other, but that had not stopped the red witch. Melisandre had consistently visited Sansa and pelted her with religious propaganda- not listening to a word she said in defense. It was only after weeks of begging and a few tearful moments that Stannis had forbidden her from even visiting his young queen. The red woman had bit her lip and bowed her head, obeying her king, but Sansa could see the annoyance in her eyes whenever her ruby gaze drifted her way.

Melisandre did not like her. At all. It was clear that she thought Sansa a silly little girl when she had first been brought to Dragonstone, and had not viewed her as a threat. Only a young, fertile womb from which Stannis could finally have a male heir. But as the months went by and Stannis warmed to his new wife, even treating her with a certain modicum of affection, the Red Woman's disdain had grown. Now that Sansa's belly was swelling and she had gained the worship of Shireen and the respect of the king, Melisandre was contemptuous. She wasn't surprised that she had led this battle on faith now, in front of her. And wasn't even less surprised at her next words.

"Yes...it is _surprising_ that the queen absolutely _refuses_ to support the faith that has led to the king's success..." Her syrupy tone was biting despite the smoothness and Sansa flinched.

The movement did not go unnoticed by Stannis who finally seemed to see that Melisandre's words were not being received well by his council. He reached over imperceptibly and covered Sansa's cold hand with his own icy fingers. It was the most affection she would ever receive in public, but it still made it's point. The king and queen a team that the red witch could not break. Without saying a word, Stannis showed his support to Sansa and she answered it with a wordless smile and bent her head in submission to him and his judgement on the matter.

Stannis took a moment to take in the table and read the energy before clearing his throat quickly. "I see that despite your claims, there is still much unrest at this table, let alone the country. I have promised my queen the right to choose what gods she prays to and I don't see why I should deny my people that same right."

Melisandre's face twisted in fury before she smoothed her features. "But your grace-" she started, obviously biting down annoyance, before Stannis rose a hand to halt her statement.

"That is my wish." He never rose his voice, but his steady. "And the wish of my queen" Sansa was surprised he speak so in front of his council and even more so when he rose and offered her his arm. She was well into her pregnancy and beamed at him for the much appreciated help. She couldn't even help the slightly triumphant smile on her face as she saw the sour look in the priestess' eyes.


	10. Chapter 10

**THE LIAR QUEEN**

Sansa watched as Littlefinger climbed the steps to the iron throne. She could not believe that this moment they had worked for so long to see was finally coming to pass.

When he had stolen her away from Kings Landing all those years ago she had been a weak child and he had been her savior. He had shielded her from the Lannister queen's malice, from the warring lords of the realm, and from the countless suitors hoping to use her name to achieve power. His services had not come cheap however. It had started with a touch here or there, caresses that crossed the line from the father he was pretending to be. It soon graduated to ever lengthening kisses as he demanded more and more liberties with her body and time. And Sansa, then masquerading as Alayne, had no other options.

News came infrequently to the Vale during the great war at the wall, but Sansa still treasured every piece of news that had come her way. News of the Targaryen queen and the Stark bastard fighting valiently for the realms safety. Petyr had been determined that they stay hidden away in the Vale until the danger had passed and the battle was won. So Sansa had waited. When news of their deaths came, even the knowledge that they had sacrificed themselves to save the realm did not lessen the pain she felt. And when that night Petyr had come to her rooms and demanded entrance, she didn't have the energy to try to dissuade him.

After that, it seemed he no longer cared about trying to feign the appearance of a father with his bastard daughter. And when her belly had begun swelling, he had abandoned it altogether, dragging her into the sept and covering her with a cloak embroidered with mockingbirds.

It had been about that time as well that he had stopped consulting with her and teaching her how to play the game. He seemed content just to have her in his bed, swelling with his child and no longer helped her become a player on her own. But she still watched him always. Watched as he maneuvered people and inched his way closer and closer to the empty throne. And now, with a newborn babe in her arms (named Cat, her husband would agree on no other name) she watched as he ascended the throne. He looked at her, pride etched in his smile and she gave him a gentle one in return, fingering the vial hidden away in her pockets.

Tonight, she would feast with her new king, toasting his success. Praising all the work he had done to get where he was now. She would let him bed her again, all the while whispering loving words in his ear. Let him luxuriate in all that his scheming and betrayals had bought him.

It would be the next day that the symptoms would start and the fever would begin to take hold. She would sit by his bedside, distraught, as his breathing became more and more strained. She would beg the Grand Maester to do whatever it took to save her ailing husband. And when he was living his last moments she would be right there and she would tell him.

The North remembers.

 **A/N: I know it's been a while and I hope you enjoy this! Still wanting to write whenever inspiration hits me. The last chapter in the series will for sure be 'Queen of the North', but I would still love suggestions before I write that one! Let me know if there's a pairing you would like to see!**


	11. Chapter 11

**A/N: For you,** **Alexia** **.**

Sansa stared openmouthed, her hand automatically tightening around her husbands. Her eyes flashed fearfully as she glanced at him, hoping for him to do something. _Anything._

Willas' eyes did not hold the same fear hers did, but rather anger. Still, his fingers squeezing hers calmed her slightly. As they always did. His gentle hands had always calmed his horses and his dogs and the magic extended to her-his wife.

"But how can you call her 'the most eligible lady'?" he gritted out to their guests. "She is _not_ eligible. She is my _wife_! _"_ She could tell he was trying to keep his anger in check so as not to offend their royal guests.

Queen Daenerys was as lovely and regal as she had heard. A true dragon queen who was such a clear blend of raging wildfire power and icy courtesies. The woman, who Sansa could tell held the true power of the Iron Throne, seemed content to let her young nephew handle this particular jousting field. She sat, quietly composed and enjoyed the fruits of the Reach that had been laid out to welcome them.

Prince Aegon was struggling just as Willas to control his temper. The handsome boy was desperate-they all knew. He needed a queen. It was now common knowledge that Queen Daenerys was barren. There would be no full blooded Targaryen heir to follow these dragons. They needed to outsource. But after the Great War, there were few ladies from great houses left.

Sansa shuddered, remembering how uncertain her future had been then. She did not want to be sold like a broodmare to the highest bidder. She had told Jon in no uncertain terms that she had refused to be a bargaining chip for him. He had agreed, promising her he would never force her into anything. But then, in the flurry of fire and ice that had befallen Winterfell during the Great battles- he and his promise were gone. Sansa was alone again-forced to use herself to secure Winterfell's future. She had received countless letters-all begging for her favor-but one had stood out from the rest. Willas had been kind from the start. And after a few years of gentle touches and words and true kindness, she had finally fallen to his charms. Although she had long lost faith in knights and beautiful princes, her loving husband taught her to believe in chivalry again. She wouldn't trade him for anything in the world. Least of all a crown.

"Yes...I know that she is your wife. But you must see reason! The realm needs a queen. One from a great house that will bring the kingdom together. The stormlands are just now finding their feet under Edric Storm...Baratheon now. Roslin Tully is no choice with her Frey heritage. The Lannister family is gone. Dorne...will not enter negotiations. Robin Arryn will not father any daughter...the Iron Islands are out of the question... Sansa is a daughter of the North. And believe me, the Reach would be compensated for giving their lady to this noble cause. In one marriage we would form an alliance with two great houses."

Sansa's back stiffened, indignation flowing through her at the suggestion that she be traded in this way. But Willas was more offended by far.

" _Compensated?_ Sansa is my wife. She is Lady of the Reach. She will not be leaving anytime soon. Certainly not to be another man's wife."

"Not just wife... _queen_ " Aegon implored, focusing his attention now on her. "Sansa, you would be queen of the Seven Kingdoms!" he tempted, daring to take her hand. "You would be mother to princes and princesses...have everything a proper lady could ever ask for! Say the word, Sansa. Forget this man who used your weakness to take your claim." So he had done his research. Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw Willas' fists clench tight enough to draw blood. "You will have everything you ever wanted...Just say the word, sweet lady. I will take you from here..." he gazed at her with those deep, violet eyes. His lips turning up in a slight smirk. This handsome, beautiful prince that had been everything she had ever dreamed of. That no one could reject.

To Willas' dismay, she allowed the prince to pull her to her feet, taking a step closer to him, turning her face up to his, setting a dazzling smile on her lips as she whispered one word.

"No."


	12. Chapter 12

**THE STORM QUEEN**

Sansa observed the revelry below her with cool detachment. She could tell that her guests were shocked by the rambunctiousness of the court. Though Lord Garlan Tyrell was able to jest baudily with the Storm lords and fit in with this crowd, his little wife, Leonette and his brother Loras could not hide their distaste quite as well. Sansa sighed, knowing that once again, it would be up to her to provide a semblance of order. She forced a courteous smile to her lips as she turned to the small Reach lady, peppering her with questions to distract her. Leonette reminded her so much of herself all those years ago, when she had first come to King's Landing. Small, innocent, and childlike... unknowing of the true nature of men.

Well one need only take a glance around what court had become to see the rougher side of the other sex. The new lords of the Stormlands were brutish and loud-nothing delicate or political about them. Most of them came from nothing, just as their liege, and were now expected to appear dignified. But nothing could change the fact that they had not been raised to be great lords. Just now she could see her husband competing against another trying to test their strengths. As her husband wrestled the other man to the ground, cheers arose from the watching crowd. Crowing praise to their victorious king.

For half a moment, Sansa reminisced about the refinement that used to be found here. How she missed the carefully polished manners and the sophistication. But that was another life-one that had ended in blood and fire. And now, risen from the ashes, the only one able to climb the steps to the iron throne had won it on the battlefield-just like his father.

Edric Storm had a real claim, it was true, being the only living son known of the late King Robert. But the high lords would have never accepted a bastard on the throne had Sansa not brought the North to his side. He may have been granted the Baratheon name, but it was Sansa, his highborn wife, who had delivered his true legitimization. Luckily for her, he worshiped her for it. And in return, she tried her best not to resent him for his lack of elegance. To continuously make up for where he lacked. To sit and chatter to some empty headed girl from the Reach because they needed their support and it would do well to keep them happy with their king and queen.

Yet when a particularly rowdy ale-infused fight broke out in the tables below and a few onlookers were caught in the brawl, Sansa knew she had to do something. Leonette was looking practically fearful for her life and Loras' lip had begun to curl in disgust. Sansa rose with elegance from her seat at the high table, she glided down the steps and made her way into the mass of men twice, three times her size. Her presence had an immediate effect of the men. Those who were in her way instantly moved to clear her path, most even breaking from their tumbling to bow their heads and mutter respects. Sansa kept her head up, walking with pride as she sent smiles to some, nodding her thanks. She moved like a cooling drop of clean, pure water through the crowd, calming all in her way before she reached her husband, who was in another tussle with one of his friends.

Edric jumped, startled by her presence. He dropped the man's head he had locked in his arms and stood straight, a shameful grin on his face-like a schoolboy caught by a septa. Sansa stood patiently, her hands folded in front of her while the lords all bowed deeply to her. She had heard it said more than once that she was like the Mother, gently guiding her husband and his men to decorum and she felt it an apt description of her role at court.

But now she smiled at her husband, the one she had never asked for but had been a good man to her, and curled her fingers around his.

"I thought perhaps we could dance, my King?" she said, loud enough for the surrounding men to hear. Most of them did not no how to dance gracefully, but she had been pleased when they all clearly had been making an effort to learn. Having them focus on footwork and impressing the visiting Reach ladies would add some propriety to the evening. There were a few grumbles, men who did not want to abandon this array of boisterous activity, but the king bowed gracefully to his wife, grinning wildly.

"As my queen commands" he murmured, kissing her fingers. She rewarded him with a dazzling smile and nodded her thanks.

 **A/N: Alexia has given me some inspiration. Thank you all for your support and reviews! Always looking for suggestions.**


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